Chapter Thirty-One: Needle and Dart
Guardians of the Twilight Lands -- The Sixth Book of Unexpected Enlightenment
“You can open your eyes, Smith,” Peter announced as he paraded Cummerbund before the flabbergasted younger boy.
Rachel had told Sigfried repeatedly that the family would give him a horse, but, judging by his astonishment, he had not believed her. Cummerbund was a bay pony with a long coarse mane that fell over his eyes. Rachel loved Bund, but she feared he was already too short for Siggy. Still, Bund would not bolt or buck. She did hope Siggy understood that, even though the pony was now his, he could not feed it to Lucky when he outgrew it.
Peter, Laurel, and their friends clapped as Siggy took the pony’s reins. They crowded around, giving him advice about care and riding. While they talked, Rachel ran into the barn, grabbed a halter, and headed for the pony paddock where Widdershins grazed. Arriving, she found, to her dismay, that, yet again, her lovely little Shetland pony was filthy from head to hoof. Mud caked his legs, his tail, his back, even his mane.
“Oh, no! Widdershins!” Rachel cried, “Why are you always covered with mud?”
“’Tis the luck of the draw,” Lady Xenia leaned against the fence watching the moor ponies. She was a sweet young woman, blonde and aristocratic. She was not as astonishingly beautiful as many of the girls at school, but pretty in an airy way that seemed to go well with horses, whether she was in the stable cleaning a hoof or leading a high stepper into a show ring.
“Some horses love mud; some don’t,” Neens continued. “My Featherstar is fastidious. Other horses come in coated with mud, and he has merely a splash on one shin, but Peril’s Rolling Thunder is like your little fellow. Always in the mud. Always.”
“I don’t mind washing and currying him.” Rachel put the halter around the muddy pony and began leading him toward the stables. Neens fell in beside her. “I just feel sorry for Oliver. He has to do it when I’m not home.”
“Ah, Oliver.” Neens gave an exaggerated sigh. “He’s so cute. When I want to annoy my parents, I tell them I’m planning to run away with Oliver the Stable Boy.”
“Do you want to run away with Oliver?” Rachel asked, interested.
Xenia wilted like a bouquet left in the sun. “Oh, Rachel, you know the answer to that. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. I wish I could be that subtle. Mine is plastered across my forehead, along with an L for Loser.”
Rachel did know. As far back as she could remember, Neens had been in love with Peter; however, Peter saw her as an amusing younger child, taking no real notice of her. Rachel gave her a sympathetic look. She understood Neens’s plight much better than she had previously.
“Have you given thought to what you want when you outgrow your pony?” asked Neens.
Rachel felt faintly pleased that the older girl assumed she would grow. She nodded. “I wanted a Friesian, but I don’t think I’ll get tall enough. Looks like I’ll be short like Mummy.”
“Have you considered breeding the Friesians with the moor ponies?”
“I have,” Rachel replied. “Or rather, at one point I looked into breeding the Friesians with Arabians—such beautiful horses—but crosses already exist, and they don’t have the long, wavy manes that make the Friesians so extraordinary.”
“What about applying Lloyd, Lord Fairweather’s breeding techniques to keep the mane?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Rachel admitted. “I guess I could bring that up with Father.”
Lady Xenia gave her a sunny smile and laid a comforting hand on Rachel’s arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with him.”
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